


A New Assessment

by Diary



Category: James Bond (Movies), Kingsman (Movies), London Spy, Sherlock (TV), Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - James Bond Fusion, Alternate Universe - Kingsman Fusion, Alternate Universe - London Spy (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy Fusion, Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Bechdel Test Fail, Canon Gay Character, Dubious Ethics, Female-Male Friendship, Gen, Inspired by Teen Wolf (TV), Interspecies, Interspecies Friendship, Late Night Conversations, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multiple Crossovers, POV Male Character, POV Mycroft Holmes, Werelynx Anthea (Sherlock)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9276236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: Crossover. AU. Mycroft ends up with a werelynx PA and observes her quasi-friendship with MI6 employee Alex Turner. Complete.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the fandoms contained within.

Mycroft often tries to ignore his knowledge of the supernatural.

This has become more difficult with a lynx wearing an MI5 badge around her neck suddenly dogging his steps.

Unfortunately, Lady Smallwood is on vacation with her husband, and the newest M is disinclined to do anything or to let him. “You don’t have to deal with Mister Guillam, Mister Holmes,” she bluntly tells him. “I do, when he has to deal with her.” Glancing down, she says, “Agent A is a valuable asset, but she is not particularly popular. I’ll see if Turing will come occupy her.”

There’s a sound from down below.

“Ah, bloody- Turner, is it?”

Agent A bows her head.

“Thank you. Eventually, I will remember that. Good day, Mister Holmes. Agent A.”

She leaves, and Mycroft stares down at the lynx- werelynx, he supposes is the more accurate term.

Her only response is to stare placidly back up at him.

…

An hour after his unsuccessful chat with M, a young man wearing an MI6 badge is standing in his office. “M sent me, Mister Holmes.”

Mycroft feels a migraine brewing. There are four Turners in MI5 and two in MI6. For a multitude of reasons, he hadn’t thought M would send Frances Turner’s son.   

He’s about to send the boy out when he notices Turner has brought a thermos and is pouring some of the contents into the lid and setting it in front of her. “Ma’am.”

“You weren’t sent here to feed her,” he grounds out.

A puzzled look crosses Turner’s face. “I’m aware, sir.” Glancing down, he continues, “Agent A has said she prefers to capture her own meals when she’s in lynx form.” Looking back up, he adds, “I bring drinks and snacks during mid-morning break. M told me not to bother to bring you anything.”

Turner revolutionised the housekeeping department and introduced several new concepts of forensic accounting in his first year of joining. Recently, he’s been moved to wrangler duty and is doing consistently stellar work. If his mother ever hears he’s been made into an errand boy-

Mycroft will take playing foreign politics over domestic any day.

“Can you get her to leave?”

“I’ll try,” is the uncertain response. Kneeling down, Turner inquires, “Could I speak to you privately, ma’am?”

She makes a motion with her paws, and Turner digs out his mobile and holds it out to her with the screen facing her. A delicate claw slowly presses different buttons, but from the angle, it’s difficult to deduce which are being pressed.

Turning the screen back towards him, Turner says, “According to Agent A, your blood sugar levels are not optimal, sir.”

…

After Mycroft has a cheese sandwich and some tea, Agent A leaves, but two days later, she’s back.

This time, Mycroft himself summons Turner.

“Your mobile is running low on charge, sir.”

…

A week later, it’s, “Agent A says your tie doesn’t go with your shoes, sir.”

…

Three weeks later, Mycroft glances down. “You could talk to me in human form rather than forcing me to get Turner.”

Despite his increasing headache, it doesn't surprise him when a naked young woman is suddenly standing in his office. “You have an appointment at three today, Mister Holmes. Your PA has forgotten it.”

“Tell me,” he responds, “how would you like his job?”

“Does that come with permission to neutralise 007, Mister Holmes?”

“You may have a ten percent increase in salary, a designated parking space, and a line of credit at the Kingsman organisation. You may not go after any 00 agents.”

“I don’t drive, sir. Could Mister Turner be moved from wrangler duty back to housekeeping?”

He’s only a bit thrown. “He seems rather fond of you.”

“Mrs Turner wanted him on wrangler duty, and he never complains about anything. He thrived more in housekeeping.”

God knows how much everyone else in housekeeping complains and demands things. If Turner was happy doing accounts and can get expense reports without running to his superiors every five minutes-

“I’ll extend an offer,” he says.

“Sir.” She tosses his mobile back, and he’s reminded why he is so discomforted around the supernatural. Humans are effortless to read and manipulate, but those of supernatural origin can often do things before he can detect the fact they are even considering doing it.

There’s a polite knock on the door.

“Come in, Turner,” he says.

Turner comes in with a plastic-wrapped skirted suit on a hanger and a thermos of medium yellow tea with strawberries. “Ma’am,” he greets without even a cursory glance of Agent A’s body. If not for how carefully he manoeuvres though the door so no one outside can see inside, Mycroft would think him unaware of the fact. “Mister Holmes.”

…

Anthea as she calls herself (and manipulates his phone into accepting the spelling as legitimate) is the best PA he’s ever had, Mycroft will admit. There’s the minor inconvenience of her frequent attempts to assassinate, assist in the capture of, and blunt calls torture be inflicted on 007, but his tea is always just how he likes it and delivered right on time, his ties are frequently complimented by others, and since she’s taken the position, no kidnapping victims have escaped or managed to harm themselves, him, or the driver.

Minor inconvenience or not, he is curious about the extent of her disdain for the 00 in question.

“One of my predecessors is responsible. I’d just barely taken the job before I suddenly had this MI5 werelynx always attempting to murder me,” 007 informs him. “Never seen or met her before in my life.”

Turner sheds a bit more light. “The 007 before this one destroyed her blackberry, sir.”

“Ah, of course,” he says.

In human form, Anthea is practically addicted to anything electronic. Usually, Turner is the one who ends up forfeiting his mobile if there’s nothing else suitable and portable around.

“Do you know why he did this, Turner?”

“To save her life, sir. During a lockdown, it was discovered the battery was filled with mountain ash and was steadily seeping into the air. The chemicals the quartermaster had to neutralise the mountain ash destroyed the screen, battery, and SIM card. She wanted to take it outside and wait for the mountain ash to naturally expel itself.”

“Was she aware of the lockdown?”

“I’ve never asked, sir.”

Mycroft imagines, even if she had been, her answer would have been to leave it in a different part of the building, never mind the risk of the mountain ash making its way into the vents and infecting other werecreatures. “Yet, you and her have always gotten along despite her being 5 and you 6.”

One of the first things he’d noted about Turner was the young man’s awkwardness. Turner often doesn’t appear awkward to his co-workers, he merely comes across as quiet and shy, but when it comes to the personal and, especially, when it comes to non-government employees, Turner often has no idea how to respond, and therefore, defaults to polite literalism.

“Her unconventional priorities often don’t inconvenience me, sir, and my- lack of socialisation skills don’t appear to bother her.”

…

He’s talking to some Italian politicians when, speaking in a light accent, she makes her way through. “Pardon me, please. Excuse me, thank you. Mister Holmes, I apologise, but you have a most urgent call.”

Excusing himself, he accepts the mobile and glass of sparkling water she hands him. Glancing down at it, he sees the ice cubes and represses a sigh. There’s three alpha werecreature assassins primed to make sure he doesn’t leave the country alive.

He says the necessary formalities into the phone and hangs up. “Request denied, Miss Goldberg. Please, get my coat while I tender my apologies.”

“I apologise for the insubordination, Mister Holmes, but I genuinely think my continuing presence at this lovely party will be of service to you and our superiors.”

Her taking on the three alphas would give him a better chance at being safely extracted, but she would surely die in the process.

“Now isn’t the time for sexism, sir,” she pleasantly adds. “I assure you, I am capable of mingling with these exciting people without compromising myself or our business interests.”

“You know I’m not worried about that. You are a young, foreign woman alone in a city at night, and we only have one car and driver, Miss Goldberg. It isn’t sexism to point out the inherent dangers in this.”

“There are plenty of reputable cab services in the city, Mister Holmes. Now, that urgent business you need to attend to isn’t getting any less urgent, sir.”

Giving up, Mycroft starts making plans for finding a new PA and leaves.

…

He’ll admit to shock when the extraction call comes in before he can finishing designing the headstone.

Anthea is brought back in lynx form. She’s severely weakened with deep claw marks all over her body, scratched out eyes and ears, and a wolfs bane bullet lodged in her spine, but she is alive.

Even more, the three dead bodies of the alphas are transported back with her for study.

A GCHQ employed doctor specialising in werecreatures tells him, “She’ll need about a fortnight of rest, sir, but with the herbs I’ve prescribed, she will be back in top form within that time frame.”

“No permanent blindness or hearing issues?”

“No, sir. She will be blind for the next few days, but her healing will soon kick in. While her ears were badly damaged, they weren’t actually removed. Therefore, once the pain levels go down, her hearing will return to normal, which, for her, is better than humans’. It’s similar with the eyes. They are badly scarred, but since they weren’t removed, her healing will take care of it.”

Mycroft begins forming a new assessment of Anthea.

…

A few days before she’s due to return, Mycroft is in the MI6 building for lunch with Guillam when he comes across her and Turner sitting on the floor in a room containing old computers.

For a moment, he simply observes them.

In lynx form, she’s tucking in what looks to be an eagle, and there’s a bowl of medium yellow tea with strawberries floating in it near her. No doubt, when the local zoo panics over one of its conservation animals having gone missing, he’ll have to deal with it, and she’ll bluntly bring up the fact she’s still technically healing from bringing down three alpha creatures on his behalf.

Turner has a chicken-and-tomato sandwich with no condiments and a thermos of Jasmine green tea with lemon.

In front of them, a small tablet plays a documentary on computer sciences, and sitting almost close enough to press against one another but not quite, they both concentrate on it and their food.

It suddenly strikes him, the correct label for them is _friends_. It’s unlikely either is emotionally dependent on the other for anything, and it’s even more unlikely either of them trusts the other with any deep secrets, but these valuable yet largely ill-received assets have formed a camaraderie where they feel safe and comfortable enough to have lunch together away from all those they don’t particularly feel safe and comfortable around.

Quietly, he leaves.

…

After Anthena’s latest stunt, Mycroft finds himself wondering if, perhaps, someone like his former PA wouldn’t be better.

Finally, he asks, “Do you seriously object to him on such an extreme level?”

“Yes,” she answers. “Even before my blackberry was destroyed, I’ve objected to the 00 branch. They were once necessary, but they are relics of another era. True spies work quietly in behind screens. When they do target people, they target foreign government officials. 00s involve civilians in their efforts. Most of them are straight, white, and male, and that is what the public sees. These young lads with fast cars, cool gadgets, and exotic beauties in every country who are happy enough to die for even minor victories.”

“Consequently, that is what the rest of the world thinks of us: We’re callous with foreign lives unless we want to screw them and hold to outdated ideals. They aren’t exactly wrong, either, are they, Mister Holmes? Look at the demographics for SIS. White males, often from wealthy families, with socially acceptable levels of misogyny and homophobia.”

“And the newest 007 specifically?”

“He’s a narcissistic, borderline alcoholic who has come very close to going rogue more than once. The only one who has any amount of true control over him is M, and she won’t be around forever, sir. I saw all of that within five minutes of being in his presence.”

“Much as I’m usually grateful for your employment, why don’t you simply find an organisation that doesn’t have 00s?”

“Below my loyalty to Queen and country, I’m a werelynx, sir. The human population at large is not at a point where they’d take the reveal of the preternatural well.” A look of genuine sadness crosses her face. “Before we became a government secret, sir, hunters were often merciless. Now, however, a werelynx is PA to one of the most powerful men in the British government. My sixteen-year-old cousin lives in a flat and can safely go to school, have crushes, and not be terrified of going to a concert with human friends.”

“What does that have to do with the 00s?”

“Aside from the above objections, I also see many tactics and attitudes in them that were widespread in hunters.”

...

Mycroft expands his duties to include meeting and negotiating with werecreatures.

With a werelynx for a PA, he supposes it’s way past time he stopped trying to ignore his knowledge of the supernatural.


End file.
